Barely Afjordable

And so it has come to this – the final leg of a very long journey. For this final leg we squeezed in the fjords of Norway, Copenhagen, and London. Why did we save the three most expensive stops for last? No one knows.

We left Stockholm at 10pm and caught our flight to Bergen, Norway – the “gateway” to the fjords. We arrived in Bergen late and prepared for an early wake-up as we had to catch the train to the port city of Flam from where we were taking the fjord cruise. This, however, did not prevent us from scoping out Bergen the next morning. Bergen, like all remote Norwegian towns we saw, was ensconced at the base of mountainous terrain right on the water. The town was a combination of medieval architectural relics and 19^th century German fur traders’ homes that have been re-purposed for modern use. It was in this charming town that Brian and I committed our first crime of the trip. 

That morning, before the train, we were told of a hotel on the water that served an excellent breakfast. We headed over there expecting to have to spend a lot of money as Norway is ridiculously expensive. When we walked into the lobby, the man at the front desk informed us where to eat. His directions to the appointed dining area were a bit confusing, and so we ended up one floor up in a buffet area. What a spread! They had a full Continental breakfast selection as well as fresh fish, waffles, and pastries. At this point, Brian and I were naïve to our situation and just dug in. If there was a global black list for buffets, we would be on it. As we were almost always hungry on this trip, restaurants always lost money when they let us into their buffet. As we sat there eating, we noticed that people were just getting up and leaving once they were done. Then came the epiphany: we had stumbled into the hotel complimentary breakfast buffet one floor above the restaurant. With this realization came the instant urge to escape and get away with our crime. We walked out of the dining area, trying to look casual, but I was frantically looking for a back stairwell exit to flee the scene. Just as I located it, a waitress stopped me, “Good morning…” “Shit, we’re done,” I thought. Then she simply asked, “How was your breakfast?” We told her how awesome it was and then got out of there free and clear.

Later that morning we took the train to Flam. The train meandered through the countryside by water and through the mountains. Outside the train, the snow cover became heavier and heavier until it seemed as though we were in the North Pole. The snow on the Norwegian mountains made the fjord cruise from Flam all the more beautiful. The tour boat took us on an all day cruise through the Aurlandsfjord and Naeroyfjord. These fjords were the most spectacular and astounding natural setting I have ever been in. The snow-capped mountains seemed to shoot right out of the water, creating a jaw-dropping juxtaposition between the mountain peaks and the icy clear water below. The extreme nature of this juxtaposition was often disorienting as the reflection of the mountains on the crystal water made it seem as though there were two skies.

After our tour of the fjords, we boarded another train to Oslo. Here, we met with a mutual friend named Anastasia to whom we were introduced by our Dartmouth friend Stoian – an Oslo native. She toured us around Oslo, taking us to a nice bar and a great burger place. It’s tough to go out in Oslo because everything was so damn expensive. I believe we paid $30 for a hamburger and another $30 for a six pack of beer. Insane. I don’ get how people can live there.

After Oslo, we rounded out our Scandinavian adventure in Copenhagen. Like the other Scandinavian cities, Copenhagen was beautifully oriented around the water making for some great meals at harbor-side cafes.    Being in Copenhagen, we obviously had to hit the Carlsburg Brewery. Copenhagen is ideal for renting bicycles. You can pretty much go anywhere on a bike and the bike lanes are pretty legit, so we rented bikes from our hostel and rode to the brewery. I don’t really remember the tour of the museum, but that’s not what we went for. We went for the free beer that comes with each ticket. This made riding bikes back into the center of town a little more difficult. 

We also visited the famous hippie squatter town of Christiania in Copenhagen. This independent section of the city is essentially a commune run by people smoke marijuana all day. Brian and I had heard raving reviews about the place, but when we arrived it became apparent that those reviews all came from people who took advantage of the loose drug policy because there really was nothing to see there except for run-down decrepit buildings and hippies. Although it was charming, we did not stay long and did not “contribute” to the Christiania economy.  

At night, we usually just posted up at our hostel bar trying to avoid our roommate in the dorm. When he arrived late the first night, I noticed his backpack and knew we were in trouble. It was not until I awoke the next morning that the harrowing severity of the situation became apparent. Backpackers smell. They smell terrible. Suddenly we were back in Rotorua except all of the awful sulfuric smell was coming from Stinky Pete the backpacker who had squatted in our room. I’m not sure why thy think it’s ok that they smell this way. To all of those backpackers I’ve yet to meet: be a man and buy a real damn suitcase and deodorant should be applied every day.

 London. Although London was not a true stop as we were only there to catch out flight home, we made the most of it. Our authentic taste of London was made possible by Dartmouth alum and former TDX president, Alex Lentz. Alex and his fiancé Katie opened up their home to us and gave us a great send-off from our trip. When we arrived at their place we threw down our stuff and immediately headed for the London tube to Buckingham Palace. We only had a few hours, so, as we’ve become accustomed to, we tore through the London site-seeing experience. Buckingham Palace, Winston Churchill Museum, Westminster Abbey, Parliament, London Eye, and obviously got the picture in front of Big Ben. Boom. Done with London. We made our way back to our host’s apartment and joined them for dinner. 

 They took us to a traditional London pub which I must say may be my favorite social environment. In addition to great food and beers, the pub had a very classical, intimate atmosphere that was great for being with friends or even just reading a book. Many of the pubs also feature plaques that mark the spot where a famous English author used to sit, drink, and write.

Brian and I are not famous authors, but it has been a pleasure to write this blog along our journey and keep everyone up to date (and hopefully a little entertained). We have since arrived home to Annapolis safe and sound and had a wonderful culminating dinner on the porch with our parents. 

This trip has been disorienting, enlightening, exhausting and exhilarating – a real once in a lifetime experience. We’ve been to many places to which I can’t wait to return and many places to which we will most likely never have the opportunity to go to again. We’ve befriended interesting people along the way with whom we will stay in touch and we’ve met some absolute weirdos that I am glad we will never see again. It is strange to think that we are home now and that there are no more flights to catch or sites to see; but the true finality of our journey set in yesterday at US Immigration when the officer stamped my battered passport and said, “You have no more pages left. Get a new passport.”  

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines, sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.” – Mark Twain

Sprinting to the "Finnish"

While our trip is starting to wind down, it is by no means going down without a fight.  We are currently in the middle of a jam packed six day stretch which started with a flight from Tel Aviv to Helsinki, then a train from Helsinki to St. Petersburg, a train back from St. Petersburg to Helsinki with a ferry from Helsinki to Stockholm that night, a flight from Stockholm to Bergen, a train from Bergen to Flam, then one last train from Flam to Oslo where we will stay for two nights.  Sleep in a bed has become a luxury and we are definitely running on empty, but you can sleep when you’re dead and we’re determined to make the most out of this final stretch.

We landed in Helsinki and were in for quite a shock.  For the first time since leaving the frozen tundra of Hanover New Hampshire in mid-March, we were cold.  Spring has certainly not sprung in Helsinki due its extreme northern coordinates.  Because of our flight debacle, we arrived later than planned and did a short walk around the city before deciding to get some sleep knowing that we could see the rest of it on the rebound after St. Petersburg.

By 6:15 the next morning our train was pulling out of the Helsinki station and mother Russia was in our sights.  The 3-hour ride got us into St. Petersburg with a full day to take advantage of everything the city has to offer.  First we stopped by the Winter Palace, one of the more famous destinations in St. Petersburg.  We were very upset to find out that the Hermitage, one of the most famous art museums in the world which is located in the Winter Palace, was closed on Mondays (one of the problems with only spending on day in a certain location).  Following this disappointed we were greeted with a pleasant surprise.  We entered  St. Isaac's Cathedral not thinking much of it, but were overwhelmed by its majesty once we crossed through the doors.  Seemingly every square inch of the interior of the cathedral was covered with some type of art whether it be a fresco, mosaic, statue or carving.  It was definitely one of the more impressive displays of art and architecture that we have ever seen. 

Next we headed over to the Church of Our Savior on the Spilled Blood, which has the traditional Russian onion domes.  The inside of this church was once again very impressive, with mosaics of Christ and his apostles covering all of the walls and ceilings.  After seeing all of these impressive sights it was made clear to us that Peter’s goal of creating a city to help Westernize Russia was accomplished.  The train ride, walking, and sightseeing wore us down, and we took a nap before heading to dinner. 

It was a strange feeling walking to dinner at 10pm while the sun was still up.  I can’t imagine what it’s like in a month at this latitude, when night time lasts for 45 minutes.  Our destination for dinner was a traditional Russian vodka room that offered over 200 different types of vodka.  The beef stroganoff, vodka, and music that must have come from a Cold War propaganda movie gave us a sense of what life was like under the Iron Curtain.

Before we knew it, we found ourselves back on the train at 6am the following morning to return to Helsinki.  The temperature had warmed slightly from two days ago which made this go around much more pleasant.  We stopped for a while in the square in front of the beautiful Helsinki Cathedral and utilized the free city wide wifi Helsinki provides (I guess socialism has some benefits) while taking in views of the harbor, where we could just see the Silja Serenade, our vessel that would take us to Stockholm later that night. 

The Silja Serenade was enormous.  It housed multiple restaurants, bars, a casino, and shops.  It was a floating city.  We were very excited for this overnight cruise, having heard great reviews of the trip.  Once aboard, we took advantage of the warm weather and headed to the top deck where we were given great views of the Helsinki harbor.  The winds whipping across the Baltic drove us back below deck to our luxurious C class berths, which were located at the very bottom of the boat below the two car decks.  If the ship were to go down I knew that we would be caged in and left to drown, just like the lower class passengers on the Titanic, while the civilized people would be comfortable aboard a spacious lifeboat.  But, we did not plan on spending much time in our room, so it more than served its purpose. 

Our first stop was the all you can eat/drink buffet.  Being on a budget and not spending much of that budget on food, whenever we have entered an all you can eat environment we tend to over do it, which we most certainly did here.  After five plates and a few dirty looks from the people sitting at our table, our stomachs were on the verge of exploding.  The only cure was a quick nap before sampling the ship’s nightlife.

The food coma was more powerful than we thought.  We slept through our alarms and didn’t wake up until midnight.  Given the reputation of this party boat, we figured that things would just be heating up when we hit the deck.  Instead, it was more like a ghost town.  I guess there are not many people taking this ferry on a random Tuesday in the beginning of May so we decided to test our luck at the casino.  All that needs to be said is that our luck from Macau did not follow us to Scandinavia.  Determined to still have fun despite the adverse conditions, we headed to the ships nightclub where we had a very interesting encounter with a self-proclaimed alcoholic Finnish man.  He was very into dancing and kept encouraging us to “do more”, while coming closer and closer.  He gave us a lot of insight into Finnish culture, and told me that “Finnish men hold hands and kiss all the time.”  A few minutes after that, he asked Alex if he wanted to take him home, and it was at this point that we determined it was time to call it a night and retire to our bunks.

The next morning we made a quick exit from the boat and set off to see Stockholm before taking off for Bergen that night.  We walked through the collection of islands that makeup the city, and soaked up the sun along the beautiful waterfront.  When strolling through one of the city’s parks we noticed everyone was eating these incredible looking burgers.  After further investigation, we found out that they were all from a place called Max.  We hit Max hard, and wolfed down the amazing burgers in the scenic park.  

Following this we walked more around the Old City, visited the Royal palace, a cathedral, and rode the Katarina elevator up to a very cool bar that had great views of all of Stockholm.  Being further south of Helsinki, it was much warmer here and spring had just begun.  All of the flowers were in full bloom and it seemed that all of the Swedes were taking very long lunch breaks so that they could be outside and take in the beautiful weather that had finally arrived after a long cold winter.  We really liked Stockholm’s vibes, and it was unfortunate we did not have more time there. 

But there is no looking back, only going forward.  Norway and its fjords are beckoning.

"I Sea Dead People"

After the mental scarring from seeing Brian’s naked body vigorously worked over by a hairy Turkish man in the Hamam, I knew it was time to move on. And what better place to purify the soul than the Holy Land?

Our trip to Israel brought with it the excitement of seeing Jerusalem, Tel Aviv, the Dead Sea, and the ruins of Caesarea. While in Israel we were the guests of family friends Anne and Daniel Cohen who welcomed us into their home and ensured we got a true Israel experience during our short time there. Anne and Daniel, thank you so much for having us.

When we arrived in Israel, Daniel picked us up at the airport and drove us to his home in Caesarea – a beach community that was developed by the Rothschild banking family. As soon as we arrived Anne welcomed us with a hearty meal, and while we were full of stories in the car, we ravenously ate in silence when the food was put in front of us. We had not had a home cooked meal in 6 weeks and we have each lost about 15 pounds, so Anne’s excellent cooking was the perfect remedy. After finishing we fell into a food-coma for a few hours before Anne took us to see the ancient ruins of Caesarea.

Caesarea was a port city built by Herod the Great to honor his Roman patrons. A vibrant city developed from this endeavor of which the ruins are evidence. Anne walked us along the water where we observed a Circus (where chariot races and gladiator competitions were held), an amphitheatre, and numerous temples and palaces. 

After going through the ruins we returned home where we had an excellent dinner. It was a full house at the Cohen’s as they also had friends visiting from France who were on a goodbye tour before moving to New York. We came to find out that the family was moving to NYC because Thierry, the father, was a chocolatier and ran an NYC chocolate shop called Sugar and Plum. Brian and I were amazed as we had both heard of it due to its reputation for making almost anything out of chocolate from candy bars to hand bags to Easter eggs. We spent dinner poring over pictures of different chocolate creations by Thierry and resolved to go there the next time we were in New York. 

The next day we made our big trip to Jerusalem with Anne and family friend Julie. Anne and Daniel arranged for us to have a guide although I'm not sure we needed it because Anne was so knowledgeable already. Jerusalem is a convoluted, beautiful mess of ruins, holy sites, and worshippers from Islam, Judaism and Christianity. It was hot and crowded but we managed to see it all: the Wailing Wall, the Dome of the Rock, and the Holy Sepulcher

Brian and I even felt so holy as to write down a prayer and put it into the Wailing Wall. Neither of us are Jewish but we were wearing kippahs so I hope it worked. Next we made the big push to get in to see the Dome of the Rock. There was nothing spiritual or holy about this as it required some force. The line was hours long but our guide was determined to get us in so she kept trying to get another guide towards the front of the line to take us with their group. When that didn’t work, she tried to cut everyone numerous times and repeatedly got into heated arguments, blatantly lying  that she had been there the whole time. One argument got so hated that a man told her, “If you get in line here I will body slam you.” He obviously had a background in wrestling but still she persisted. After that argument fizzled out she nudged me and said, “Go in front of the woman with the baby.” I looked over and saw a poor mother holding her baby in the sweltering heat. She was moving slowly forward, pouring water on her baby’s head. Like a jungle animal our guide had picked out the weakest prey. My conscience said no but the guide dragged Brian and I over and asserted her position. Although I felt bad, had we not cut we would have never seen the golden domed mosque where Muslims say that Mohammed ascended to heaven. We've come to find that wearing shorts is offensive to pretty much every faith so we had to wear these cloths to cover them:

After this we made our way to the Holy Sepulcher, the church that was built where Jesus was crucified and buried before the Resurrection. The church was packed with Christians wall to wall all trying to touch where the cross had been placed (shown to the right), where His body was cleaned before he was buried, and the tomb itself. 

Christians who have permanent fixtures in the church are the Catholics, Armenians, and Greek Orthodox; but, none of these sects of Christianity have the key to the church. Our guide directed us to an underwhelming looking man sitting by the door. She told us that his family had had the key for centuries because they were related to general in Saladin’s army. After Saladin defeated the Crusader and took back Jerusalem he gave the land the church was on and the key to this general as a reward. So, the key to the most holy Christian site belongs to a Muslim. Pretty crazy.

The next day we sent by the pool and on the beach of Caesarea. After another amazing lunch we relaxed before going into Tel Aviv for dinner and a taste of the nightlife. It just so happened that a fraternity brother of ours, Michael Laser, was also in Tel Aviv that night; so after a great dinner at an Italian restaurant with the Cohen’s, we went to meet up with him. Michael happened to be in town to play a tournament on the pro-tennis circuit. Brian and I were in awe as he described his year of travelling and playing professional tennis all around the world. Life really is just better for professional athletes.

Michael had been to Tel Aviv before and wanted to show us one of his favorite places. After a little waiting outside we got in with a stroke of luck. The stroke of luck being that they had let in all of the attractive women and rich men and we were the only normal looking people left in a lengthy line of pasty looking point-dexters.

Now lets talk about the women. While Brian fended off a few unwanted “courtships,” (like this girl posing in our picture), I was naturally fascinated by every dark haired Israeli woman I saw.  

After talking with this group for a while I fell in love with Israeli women. All of them go to the army after high school and then they travel for 6 months before college; so, this means that they are not only interesting to talk to but they could also kick my ass – what more could you want?

After a great night in Tel Aviv we awoke the next day to drive to the Dead Sea. The Dead Sea is “dead” because nothing lives in it due to the high salt concentration. The salt is bad for marine life but excellent for floating. Brian and I spent the day floating around effortlessly. You literally don’t have to move at all to float as we demonstrated in the pictures by keeping our hands and feet out of the water. While hands and feet can go in the water, definitely don’t dunk your head. If the salt gets in your eyes or mouth a searing pain follows.

After floating around we decided to coat ourselves in the famous Dead Sea mud. The black mud is supposed to have a nourishing effect on the skin so we covered every inch of our bodies. Upon looking at ourselves in the nearby mirror we were shocked by how different we looked. After applying the mud we practically ran into the water to cool off as the black mud trapped the Israeli sun, baking our skin. This was when I made the mistake of dunking my head.

We rinsed off the remaining mud and salt and made for Caesarea to get some rest before our trip to Scandinavia. The next day we even got to the airport three hours early (or so we thought) because of how tough Israeli security is. After making it to the check out counter, the Turkish Airline representative took a look at our itinerary and said, “You are very early. Your flight isn’t until June 5.” Shocked, we walked over to the ticketing counter to get it changed to a flight for May 5.

We are now in Scandinavia with just over a week to go in our trip!

      

One Beating and a Fresh Layer of Skin? That’ll Be 145 Lira.

We arrived at the Orient Hostel in Istanbul at 2:30am after a very long travel day.  Flying from Beijing to London, then London to Istanbul, and being up for about 28 straight hours was exhausting and we immediately crashed happy to get some sleep.  But this sleep did not last long.  Roughly 2 hours after our heads hit the pillow a thundering “ALLLLAAAHHHH AKBAAAARRRRRR” boomed from the Hagia Sophia, which was located two blocks away from us.  This was our first time experiencing the Muslim call to prayer, which occurs 5 times a day.  The call lasts for about 5-10 minutes, and when it was finished we were finally able to go back to sleep.  That is until the next call that occurred around 8am…  The video below shows just how close our hostel was to the Hagia Sophia during an evening call to prayer:

Seeing that the Hagia Sophia was responsible for us being awake at 8:30am, we decided we might as well see what it was all about.  After grabbing breakfast on our hostel roof, we made our way to Istanbul’s most famous attraction.  The line was already at least 300 people long and waiting in the hot sun for 2 hours wasn’t high up on our list.  A few seconds after standing on line, a man approached us and asked if the “Aussies” (we were labeled as Australians at least 5 times while in Istanbul) wanted a tour which would involved getting to cut the line.  We were pretty skeptical about his proposition; ever since our debacle with Rudy in the Philippines we had been hesitant to engage these street tour guides.  But this guy seemed like a real straight shooter, and getting to cut the line already made the extra 25 lira worth it (as long as he wouldn’t just run off with our money). 

He turned out to be a great tour guide and gave us a nice concise tour of the Hagia Sofia.  We learned how the 1,500 year building was originally a church ,then taken over by Muslims and turned into a mosque, then finally made into a museum by the state in order to make everyone happy (or as our guide said, it made no one happy).

After the tour, we hurried across the beautiful park that separates the Hagia Sofia and the Blue Mosque in the hopes that we could gain entry before it closed during the next call to prayer.  We were lucky to get in just in time, and were given two cloth wraps to cover up our bare legs upon entry.  The Mosque was carpeted from wall to wall in order to be equipped for the masses of Muslims that would be filing in to pray.  It was a very cool feeling being inside the Mosque, but we found the outside of the building to be much more impressive than the inside. 

We got a great view of this from the 7 Hills Restaurant, where we stopped after for lunch.  The roof gives some of the best views of the Blue Mosque, the Hagia Sophia, and the Bosphorus (the waterway that separates the European portion of the city from the Asian portion).  We could not figure out why there were not more people enjoying this wonderful restaurant. 

Immediately put into a food coma by the exorbitant amounts of hummus we consumed a nap was the next course of action before we wrapped up the day with a sunset boat tour along the Bosphorus.

Our automatic alarm clock woke us up early again the next day, so we again took advantage of it by heading to the Topaki Palace.  Here we saw a great view of the Bosphorus, as well as many ancient artifacts and relics that had managed to remain in tact.  The following lunch we stuffed our faces with kebabs. 

Istanbul is famous for their kebabs and we made sure to try many of the different kinds while we were there: donor, durum, cag, shish, the list goes on.  Any possible way you could imagine preparing a slab of meat, Turkey has thought of it.  The kebab place that we stopped at was few blocks from Istanbul's Grand Bazaar.

  The Grand Bazaar has over 4,000 shops/stalls and is a bargainers heaven.  It is almost a city within itself and we nearly got lost a few times while inside.  Alex was able to buy a "real" Hugo Boss wallet at a great price and we both bargained for a few authentic souvenirs.  Following more kebabs for dinner, we spent the night sampling the nightlife around our hostel.  Being situated on a lively street lined with outdoor tables, we had a very enjoyable time.

Our final day in Istanbul we decided to cleanse our bodies and get a traditional Turkish hammam (bath).  The Cagaloglu Hamami was our destination of choice.  It has been open for business since 1741 and served historical figures such as Kaiser Wilhelm, Florence Nightengale, and Cameron Diaz.  The following is my graphic and scarring account of what goes on behind the closed doors of a Turkish hammam:

Alex and I were lead into a small dressing room, instructed to change into nothing but a small towel, and then to go to the back room.  After changing, we slowly made our way towards the main bathroom in our wooden hammam shoes.  A blast of heat hit us as we entered the incredibly beautiful octagonal room, which was made completely out of white marble.  There was a huge slab of marble in the center surrounded by sinks along edges of the room.  A much smaller and hotter room was located in the back right, where four other men dressed in similar garb were seated.  We took our seat here to loosen up, and wait to be called.  After 30 seconds in this marble oven I could feel the beer and kebab grease pouring out of my body, and quite soon I was drenched in sweat.  A few minutes later Alex had had enough of the heat and went to find the bathroom.  Shortly after his exit a large Turkish man, dressed in a towel that was somehow skimpier than mine, pointed through the corridor at me.  I had been chosen.

He directed me over to the large marble slab in the middle of the main room and instructed me to lie face down.  I was a little shocked when he removed my towel from my waist and fashioned it in a peculiar manner (I was now essentially wearing a Turkish towel g-string) but I thought it was all part of the experience.  It was not.  I soon looked around at my companions from the sweat chamber, and they were all wearing their towels normally.  But it was too late now as two hands slammed down on my butt cheeks; my beating had already begun. 

The phrase “manhandling” must have originated from someone who received a Turkish hammam, because it perfectly describes what was happening to me.  A large man was literally beating the shit out of me on top of a very hard and unforgiving slab of marble.  After he worked my back, he flipped me over to be facing upwards (which really made the g-string towel thing awkward), and started working my shoulder.  I have lost some mobility in my shoulder from an injury during my illustrious football career and I could tell that it was bothering my masseur/torturer that it could not move the way he wanted it to.  This is when I made perhaps the biggest mistake of my life.  I opened my eyes.  His face was 2 inches away from mine and he was looking me directly in the eyes.  It was as if he had been waiting the entire time, praying our gazes would meet.  His teeth grinned through his thick, jet-black moustache and he gave me the creepiest smile I have ever seen before proceeding to grunt “ahhhhh, yessss, YESSS!!!” and put his full body weight into my shoulder.  The shoulder moved the way he wanted it to.

Finally he slapped me on the back and we proceeded to one of the baths on the edge of the room.  Panting, and feeling as though I had just went twelve rounds with Mike Tyson, I limped over to the sink and was just happy to be able to sit down.  This brief moment of tranquility did not last long.  He soon began dumping bucket after bucket of water on my head.  This proceeded until he must have determined I didn’t have the information he desired because the water boarding torture stopped.  Through my delirious state, I could see him brining out his next weapon, the scrub.  He began violently scraping my entire body with it and telling me to,  “Look at the skin, the SKIN!!!” as layers of flesh were peeling off of me.  Once my body was covered in dead skin shavings, he flipped me over onto the floor by the sink and began to lather me up.  But before he fully cleaned me off, I felt an enormous weight on my lower back.  It was so immense I was unsure what it was, until it started moving to my upper back.  That’s when I realized; this guy is walking on me.  I could barely breathe because his weight was compressing my lungs, but then strangely I began to laugh.  I imagined what a sight it must have been to see this large, moustached, Turkish man in a skimpy towel stomping my basically naked body into the marble floor of the most beautiful bathhouse I have ever seen.

He eventually washed me down and dried me off, and Alex and I were free to go.  The feeling of leaving the hot main room was incredible; it was as if I was a new person.  My skin had never been so soft and any knot tightness that had existed in my body was eradicated.  Despite the pain and suffering involved in the process, the hammam really did its job.  While it may not be for the faint of heart, if you can handle a bit of pain, the Turkish baths are definitely an incredible experience.  It was quite the sendoff and we are hoping that our time in Israel can be just as enjoyable without the pain.

What did General Tso do to get his own Chicken?

I would first like to start out this blog post with a HUGE thanks to fellow Deerfield alums John Gray and Jack Chen who took us under their wings our first day and gave us the ultimate introduction to Beijing.

The people in Hong Kong were right, Hong Kong and China are not the same thing. While Hong Kong is an international metropolitan hub, Beijing has characteristics that are more distinctly Chinese. Upon our arrival we delved right into the action of the Forbidden City.

Everything in Beijing was open and expansive unlike the congestion of Hong Kong. The Forbidden City was no different. We had heard you could spend all day there but it was not until it took us three hours to walk to the other side that we realized that there was still much to see. We wandered in and out of temples, palaces, and imperial gardens until our feet hurt and then went back to our hostel to make contact with John Gray who graduated from Deerfield a year ahead of myself.

John had us meet him on the other side of town in the more modern business district around where he worked. We had not yet seen a white person speak Chinese so we were both astonished as he navigated to a nearby hotel.

Suddenly it was as if we were back in the Ozone Bar in Hong Kong as we shot up to the top of the Shangri-La Hotel to have a drink while taking in a spectacular view of Beijing. John informed us that the current pollution conditions were “great” which was why we could see so much of the city.

After our inaugural drink we headed down to meet up with another Deerfield alum Jack Chen who was a native of Beijing. As he drove us through town on our way to dinner he confirmed that the clear skies in Beijing were not normal and shared the fun fact that during the 2008 Olympics the government actually had factories use a higher grade of oil to reduce pollution, but that soon ended after the closing ceremonies.

Jack continued to drive us through town, and after picking up one of his friends, we made our way to the restaurant. This was not just any restaurant. As Beijing is known for its duck cuisine, Jack chose the famous Dadong restaurant, which is the best duck restaurant in all of Beijing. We didn’t know how lucky we were until we researched it later and found that it is high on the Time Magazine Top Ten Things to do in Beijing. Seeing as we had no idea what was going on John and Jack determined that it would be best if Jack take the reigns and order for us. Order he did. By the end of the meal close to 10 courses had come to our table including beef, fish, and fois gras; but the culminating courses were all Beijing duck. Our companions showed us the traditional ways to eat the different parts of the duck: dip the skin in sugar, wrap the meat in a little tortilla-type thing, ect.

For every part of the duck there was a multitude of different toppings and sauces that could go with it. We washed down our duck with Tsing Tao beer and a country gin-type liquor called baijiu.

As we ate our food we were enlightened by the dinner conversation. Our three companions talked about what it was like living and working in China, being away from home, and their future plans. It was very interesting to get the perspective of people who have decided to start their career working outside of the US, especially in an area that is growing and changing so rapidly.

Upon broaching the subject of Chinese food, the conversation turned from enlightening to downright shocking. We were confounded to find that our conception of Chinese food was erroneous. We, as Americans, have fallen victim to perhaps the greatest conspiracy since the JFK assassination: there is NO SUCH THING as General Tso’s chicken in China. There is no orange chicken either. In fact, as Jack informed us, there really is no “Chinese” food. Certain areas of China have unique types of food (like duck in Beijing) but there is no uniform, ubiquitous Chinese food menu that all revolves around General Tso and his kick ass chicken. While this makes perfect sense, we still did not understand why General Tso was such a big deal in the US. We determined that the early Chinese immigrants must have voted for General Tso for president and left China after Mao Zedong was elected. The chicken dish that bears his name must be a final salute to their fallen hero. While a 400 year old general and a Cold-War era Communist have nothing in common, it was the best we could come up with. 

After dinner John showed us the Beijing night-life and despite it being a Wednesday I must say that it was happening. We hopped around to a few bars before settling at a club. As John had work the next day we did not stay out too late and got some rest for the big day ahead of us.

The next day we spent walking around Beijing and eventually we found our way to Tianamen Square for the national flag-lowering ceremony at the end of the day.

There were hundreds of people in the square but the immense group seemed small in the vast public square. As we stood there we imagined large military rallies taking place back when Communism was really heating up. When the flag ceremony started, the 16 lane highway that separated the government building from the square was shut down and across it marched a small regimen.

After surrounding the flagpole the giant Chinese flag was lowered just as the sun set. After the ceremony the government building holding Mao Zedong’s portrait was illuminated with a red glow and everyone was evacuated from the square. Seeing as this happens every night, we assumed that this was to aid in the prevention of protests like the Tianamen Square Massacre of 1989, which the Chinese government denies happened.

Our last day in Beijing we took a trip to the Great Wall of China. We decided to go to the less touristy part of the wall that was not renovated and was farther away. The three hour bus ride turned out to be worth it as there was virtually no one there and the views of the wall were spectacular. We were reminded somewhat of Machu Pichu as we saw the man made structure twist and turn along the high peaks of the spine of the mountain. We trekked along the wall, which turned out to be exhausting as the Wall ascended and descended from one peak to the other. 

The Great Wall was simply a miracle of construction that stretched from one end to the other as far as we could see.

Later that night we returned to Beijing and had some drinks with John before turning in early to catch our trans-continental flight to Istanbul. It is hard to believe we are officially out of Asia and in the last stretch of our trip: Istanbul -> Israel -> Scandinavia -> Home. Time has been flying.